


Chicken Soup With Rice

by victoria_p (musesfool)



Category: Captain America (2011)
Genre: Best Friends, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Schmoop, insults as endearments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-28
Updated: 2011-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-28 08:29:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/305906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musesfool/pseuds/victoria_p
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bucky gets sick, it's Steve's turn to fuss over him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chicken Soup With Rice

**Author's Note:**

> For Angelgazing, who wanted Steve taking care of Bucky while he was sick. Thanks to Snacky for letting me spam her with this over IM.

Bucky follows the others to the bar, hoping a few good belts of scotch will clear his sinuses and make the tickle in his throat disappear.

Twenty minutes later, he's got three pretty English dames hanging on his every word when the tickle curls up the back of his throat and into his nose and he starts sneezing the kind of sneezes that make him feel like the back of his head is going to blow off like it's been wired with one of Dernier's mortars.

He pulls a grubby handkerchief out of his pocket and tries not to get snot all over the girls, who've pulled back in confusion and concern, but hopefully not disgust. He opens his mouth to tell them not to worry, it's just the smoke in the air that's making him sneeze, when it hits him again. He's glad he's still got the handkerchief, though it's even grubbier and, worse, wet now.

Maybe one of 'em's a nurse, he thinks, still sneezing. He could definitely work that angle with half a chance, and given the hopeful looks that are lighting up their faces, maybe they're thinking the same thing. But then a heavy, warm hand lands on his shoulder and Steve leans in and says, "Sorry, ladies, I'm going to have to make sure Sergeant Barnes here is still fit for duty in the morning. Have a good night."

Bucky shivers and Steve's hand tightens on his shoulder for a moment before he's helping Bucky up a little more forcefully than Bucky appreciates. "I'm fine, Steve. These lovely ladies would be hap--" He has to turn away to sneeze again, and then Steve's manhandling him out of the bar with the same ease he used to bundle Steve back to the apartment when he was sick.

"You're sick, Bucky. I should have realized. You were stuck out in that snowstorm a lot longer than the rest of us and you've never understood the importance of a hat and scarf."

He'd understood all right; he'd made sure Steve always had them, hadn't he? He'd never gotten sick, though, not any of the times Steve'd had flu or pneumonia, or even when he'd nursed Steve through the measles a few years ago.

"I never get sick," he says, raising his chin defiantly.

"Bucky," Steve says reprovingly, and okay, maybe it came out more petulant than defiant, but it's true. "No one thinks any less of you because you've caught the flu."

"It's not the flu," Bucky says. "If I'm sick--and I'm not saying I am--it's nothing more than a head cold. I'll sleep it off and in the morning I'll be fine."

Steve doesn't look convinced. "At least let's get you some tea with honey and lemon before you go to bed."

"Tea," Bucky mutters disgustedly, hunching down a little into his jacket as the cold night air cuts through him.

"With honey and lemon," Steve repeats.

"Are you kidding me?"

Steve takes another look at him, this one longer and more assessing, and the heat that creeps up Bucky's body has nothing to do with any kind of fever. Of course, he can't say that, not out in public anyway, and then he shivers and thinks maybe this time it does. He's not sure if that's better or worse, but Steve apparently doesn't like what he sees.

"Change in plans," Steve says, steering him away from the mess and towards the officers' quarters. He tugs Bucky into his room and practically shoves him down onto the cot. "You get ready for bed. I'll be right back with the tea, and maybe some chicken soup if there's any in the mess."

Bucky strips off his coat and that's when the shivering starts for real. He's huddled down under the thin, olive drab blanket when Steve comes back.

"Hey, Bucky, I found some tea and some aspirin," he says, handing over a thermos and a couple of little chalky white pills.

"G-g-g-great," Bucky manages through chattering teeth, barely able to manage the tea without spilling it down his shirt. He swallows the aspirin and sticks out his tongue so Steve can see; he'd been notorious for not taking his medicine as a kid. "You g-g-got an extra blanket hanging around anywhere?"

"No, but--" Steve glances around, then wedges the chair under the doorknob. "Something better, maybe." He strips off his own jacket, shoes, and trousers, and slips into the cot. He's a lot bigger than he was when they used to do this, and the cot's barely big enough for one grown man.

"Whoa," Bucky says, rolling onto his side, not sure this would be a good idea even if the bed were a king-size. "Bet you're glad I convinced you to let them give you this room now, huh?"

Steve huffs a soft laugh, his warm breath tickling the nape of Bucky's neck as he arranges himself behind Bucky and then drapes an arm around his waist and pulls him back against his chest. Bucky shivers and then settles, because Steve radiates heat like a furnace now, nothing like the skinny kid Bucky'd had to shake the sheets to find back in Brooklyn.

"You used to do this for me," Steve murmurs against his hair, one broad, warm hand splayed across Bucky's belly, burning through the thin cotton of his t-shirt in a way that has nothing to do with the fever, making him shiver again.

"I guess what goes around comes around," Bucky says, and he means it to sound irritated, but it just comes out sleepy.

Steve wakes him in the middle of the night to drink some more tea and take two more aspirin. Where he'd been cold before, now he's hot, too hot to have Steve pressed up against him, but he can't make himself push Steve away the way he'd kicked off the blankets. This might be the only chance he'll ever get to sleep with him like this as an adult, and Bucky is too sick and sleepy to care anymore that he isn't supposed to want to, and could, in fact, get them both dishonorably discharged if anyone finds out.

Bucky wakes up to the familiar sound of reveille; Steve is gone, but the sheets are still warm, so he can't have been gone long. Bucky buries his face in the pillow for a moment, but his nose is too stuffed up to tell if it smells like Steve. "Man up, Barnes," he mutters into its bleachy flatness. "Stop being a sap."

He levers himself upright, head still stuffed with snot and throat rubbed raw. His whole body aches, but he's sweating, so the fever's gone for now. He tries to stand and finds it's not as easy as he expected--his head swims a little, so he sits back down on the handy bunk beneath him.

The door swings open and Steve's there. He's got another thermos with him, and more aspirin. "Hey," he says, "you shouldn't be up yet." He sets the thermos down and pours out steaming liquid into the cup. "Got the cook to make you some chicken soup," he says, handing it to Bucky. "Even found some actual chicken to put in it, along with the rice."

Bucky takes it gratefully; it slides down his sore throat easily and doesn't upset his stomach. Still, he feels full after one cup. "You have the rest," he says, handing it back to Steve.

"You need it more," Steve says. "I already had whatever it is they're passing off as breakfast in the mess this morning. I think it was supposed to be eggs and sausage."

"Sausage?"

"I didn't ask and I didn't examine it too closely."

Bucky snorts and tries to get up again, slightly more successfully this time, except that Steve is shaking his head. He taps Bucky's chest lightly with two fingers and Bucky teeters for a second before collapsing back onto the bed. "I already told Colonel Phillips you're out of commission until your fever's gone."

"It's gone," Bucky says, which is true. It'll probably be back tonight, but he pays no attention to that. It's hours and hours away.

"You know it takes at least two or three days," Steve answers, which is also true. There's very little they don't know about colds and flu and even pneumonia after Steve's yearly winter adventures with them. Looks like those days are in the past now, and while Bucky doesn't begrudge Steve the body that matches the great heart he's always had, or the adulation he gets as Captain America, he also isn't ready to settle into Steve's old role as the sickly one. (Bucky knows he's always been the needy one and that's only become truer now, since Steve needs him less than he ever has before.)

"We don't have two or three days."

"Sure we do," Steve says, absently sipping soup from the thermos before he realizes what he's doing and sets it down on the rickety old night stand. "We're still waiting for confirmation on that intel about the next HYDRA base, and the stormy weather's going to prevent any kind of drop into enemy territory for at least two days." He takes the other thermos and pours the rest of the tea into the cup and hands it to Bucky, and then waits for him to drink it. It's cool and acidic but unlike some people, Bucky knows when he's licked, and he drinks it. "Doc Baker's going to stop by and see you in a little bit, and I'm sure he's going to prescribe bed rest and fluids."

"I should go back to the barracks," Bucky says, but this time he doesn't even try to stand up. "Can't be sleeping in Captain America's bed."

Steve shrugs and doesn't meet his gaze. "They know I'm taking care of you."

"Steve--"

"You've kissed half the girls in London and I'm Captain America. I don't think anyone thinks there's any kind of funny business going on. Your reputation is safe."

"It's not _my_ reputation I'm worried about, jerk."

Steve laughs. "You're still trying to look after me, even now."

"Well, yeah," Bucky says, unaccountably flustered. "What else would I be doing?"

"Letting me take care of you." Bucky opens his mouth and shuts it again, which just makes Steve laugh more. "I've finally figured out how to shut you up."

"Can think of a few better ways," Bucky mutters.

Steve blushes the same shade of pink he always has, but pretends he hasn't heard, the way he always does. "Now, back to bed with you."

"That's exactly what I'm talking about," Bucky says, and he's not sure what exactly is possessing him--he'd blame the fever, but it's not like he's not normally reckless and mouthy--but he's tired again and every inch of his skin feels sore, like it did after Steve rescued him from Zola's lab, and maybe he wants Steve to finally admit that whatever it is between them actually exists, and it's not just what other people feel for their best friends.

"Have some more tea," Steve says, shoving the thermos at him.

"I've had enough tea, pal. My back teeth are swimming." He shoves his feet into his boots and heads into the little bathroom attached to Steve's quarters. Must be nice, being America's favorite son.

"You, uh, take care of that," Steve says. "I'll be right here if you need help."

"You think you could handle it?" Bucky asks, tucking himself away after he takes a piss. He walks back into the room to find Steve looking like he's choking on his own tongue. "Hey," he says. "I'm just--"

"Sick."

"Yeah. That."

"You didn't mean anything by it."

Bucky sinks back down onto the bed. "I never do." The words are bitter in his mouth, or maybe that's just the aspirin Steve's pressing on him again.

"Come on," Steve says, tucking him in like he's six or something.

"Steve." Bucky grabs his arm. "Can you?" He twitches the covers in invitation. "Just for a little while?" Maybe it makes him pathetic, but for once, he doesn't care.

Steve looks at him, and for one of the few times in his life, Bucky can't figure out the emotion on Steve's face. "For a little while," he finally agrees, wedging the chair back under the doorknob and taking off his boots.

He's warm and solid when he climbs into bed behind Bucky, and before he can stop himself, Bucky turns his head and presses his mouth to Steve's.

Steve freezes for a second, and Bucky breathes against his lips, waiting to be pulled closer or, more likely, shoved away. And then Steve's mouth softens and opens. It's one of the softest, sweetest kisses Bucky's ever experienced, more like they're breathing into each other's mouths than actually kissing, and he thinks that if this is all he ever gets, it'd be enough, but then Steve's tongue darts forward and touches his, sending an electric shock through him. Bucky lets out a soft moan.

"You're not up for this," Steve murmurs against his cheek.

"I could be up," Bucky answers. "If you need me to be up."

"Idiot."

"Punk." Bucky settles more comfortably into Steve's arms. "We're not done with this."

"We'll revisit this after you're better," Steve says. "I promise."

"Okay," Bucky says, already drifting off to sleep. "I know Captain America would never break a promise."

end

~*~


End file.
